Come
one come all. We can look forward to plenty, the hour of the lotus has
arrived and the wayward mimsy that is carried on our shoulders will
evaporate into ethereal forgetfulness. There is a lot to talk about, but
many aspects are too marvelous to quantify however too glorious not to
mention if only grazing the surface in this most humble of
invitations. First we must
welcome each other, because in these times when winter slithers forward
like a grey unwelcome leetch, we have only our good cheer and hot soup
to ward off the vile, toothy succubus. We must welcome the scrooges
with pursed lips and pockets blistering with silver, we must welcome
the meek for they too have vertebrae, we must welcome any who claim
they are friends because there is reason to celebrate and celebrate we
will.

Come and laugh with printmakers, cry with painters, dance with
sculptors, lay gaze on the performers and make love to the musicians.
Feast with your eyes as their work ushers our minds into a festive
fervor with merriment to much to bear. Spend your hard earned or hardly
there currencies to help support these purveyors of culture, ancient
technique and contemporary wisdom. Take the work from this saturnal
temple and install it in your own sacred spaces to remember this day
always and forever. Play the games of chance that bring you closer to
one another, listen to the sweet sounds that nourish the air like
honeyed ambrosia.

Still
hungry? Good. Because this is not the Last Supper, this is The First.
Ready your hungry bellies for splendours not of this earth. Splendours
that will exist in such multiplicity as to make believe you have been
fasting your entire well lived lives. And we will not forget about
the drink of which, let us just say, that some things are best waited
for as surprises. So let us
surprise ourselves and exult in the bounty of production that is offered
by these prolific and gracious people on this coming Saturnalia.